


It might be a sickness

by mecchayabai



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Age Swap, Alternate Universe, Angst, Businessman Himchan, F/M, Guilt, Homophobia, Infidelity, Kids, Kindergarten Teacher Yongguk, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 15:27:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mecchayabai/pseuds/mecchayabai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yongguk works at a daycare center, where he meets Kim Himchan, a businessman, husband and father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It might be a sickness

“Minjung-ah,” Yongguk sighs as he looks at the little girl's round face, but there’s a gentle smile on his lips that reveals he’s not really angry. He does try to sound as stern as he can, but while Yongguk might have some natural authority within his own age group, kids are like kryptonite for him. 

“You remember how Jieun-nuna told you it’s bad if you get food on your clothes?” Yongguk shifts a little, comfortably squatting in front of the 3-year-old little girl. The flowery fabric of her light blue summer dress is stained with red and her mouth and hands are equally smudged; she looks like a little vampire. 

But then Minjung smiles, her trademark shy but candy sweet smile, and hides her hands behind her back, and Yongguk can’t even imagine scolding her anymore. He might have to say a word or two to Jieun-nuna, however. Having fresh strawberries for dessert has it’s disadvantages. 

“I forgot,” Minjung says with a bright voice and gives Yongguk another sweet smile along with a shrug of tiny shoulders. 

“Mmm, seems so,” Yongguk laughs. “Let’s go get you cleaned up, okay?”

They make their way to the bathroom hand in hand. Yongguk easily lifts the little girl to sit on the counter and gets a couple of fluffy towels from the closet nearby, then dips one of them under a stray of warm water. He cleans Minjung’s face and hands, although with small difficulties because she insists on painting stripes on his face with strawberry juice and tugging on his sweater and hair. 

“Alright, all done,” Yongguk says and dries his hands. “No, don’t touch your dress, okay? It’s still dirty. We gotta find you some new clothes.”

“I want a Tigger shirt,” Minjung reminds him as they head for another closet. Minjung hangs on the belt in Yongguk’s jeans as he fishes out a pair of old shorts and a red T-shirt for her to shimmy into. Halfway through she gets distracted by the loud yells and laughter coming from the playground outside and Yongguk has to help, but they are out on the yard with the others in no time. 

Yongguk makes sure Minjung finds someone to play with, informs the teacher who’s on yard shift and goes back inside. It takes almost fifteen minutes and a whole lot of inner cursing, but in the end Yongguk manages to get Minjung’s dress clean from all the strawberry stains. He’s hanging the piece of clothing over a clothes line outside to dry in the bright sunlight when he hears Minjung calling for him, at the top of her lungs. 

Jogging to the front yard, Yongguk almost runs into a vampire. Well, the man is actually very much human, but his hair is as pitch black as the crispy designer suit he’s wearing and his skin is milky pale despite it being early summer, so Yongguk can’t really control his imagination. 

“Excuse me–” Yongguk immediately gives a little bow and apologizes, but doesn’t have time to finish before Minjung slams her little body against his legs and almost knocks them both over. 

“Tigger, this is daddy,” the girl giggles as she grips the fabric of Yongguk’s orange, tiger striped pants in her little fists and points at the man in the suit. “Papa, Tigger is my teacher. His name’s Yongguk and he’s 23 years old.”

The way she tries to lower her voice during the last part nearly makes Yongguk laugh out loud, but he holds it in as best he can, and introduces himself to the suit guy instead. 

“I’m Bang Yongguk. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Kim Himchan,” the man answers briskly, and they shake hands. Judging by Mr. Kim’s amused smile, he hasn’t failed to make the connection between Yongguk’s deep voice and his daughter trying to imitate it, or the Tigger in her T-shirt and Yongguk’s nickname. Their eyes meet, and Yongguk is slightly surprised when Mr. Kim holds his gaze steadily, unhurriedly. His eyes are piercing. 

Minjung gives Yongguk’s hip a clumsy pat and bounces off to hug her father’s legs instead. She presses her cheek against the smooth fabric and nuzzles it, all the while eyeing Yongguk and smiling. 

“Minjung, I think you had a little different shirt on when you left with mommy this morning,” Mr. Kim says, but his eyes won’t leave Yongguk’s, who has to remind himself the hidden question isn’t actually directed at the little girl, but him. 

“Oh, we had a little accident with strawberries but we found her some new clothes–”

“Uh-huh, I can see that,” Mr. Kim interrupts and smiles, against all odds in Yongguk’s opinion, even more widely than when he introduced himself. Yongguk suspects this here is a real smile, while the one before was barely a polite expression for strangers like him who need to be treated in a friendly yet very distant way. Mr. Kim’s eyes move lazily from the front of Yongguk’s sweater to his face and hair, and with a quick glance downwards, Yongguk realizes he must be covered with strawberry, thanks to Minjung. 

“Er, right,” Yongguk says, smiling although he’s more than a little embarrassed. “Her dress is washed but I don’t think it’s dry just yet, so maybe–”

“That’s fine. We’ll take it with us tomorrow,” Mr. Kim interrupts him again and his puzzling smile doesn’t falter one bit. He strokes his daughter’s hair and his eyes are still fixed on Yongguk, who stares back, his face feeling suddenly heated. It has nothing to do with the red streaks on his cheeks, but the intensity of Mr. Kim’s pitch black eyes. Everything about him is black, cold and hard and threatening, except for that smile. It changes his face, bringing out softness and warmth and letting Yongguk see below the surface and notice curiosity and wonder, delight. 

“Okay,” Yongguk agrees with a nod. Then, with a last slow blink as he stares back at Mr. Kim’s face, he squats down again to face Minjung, who suddenly looks tired and leans more and more heavily on her daddy. 

“Bye, Minjung. I’ll see you again tomorrow.”

“Bye, Tigger.”

He straightens his back and says goodbye to Mr. Kim as well, and watches the two of them walk through the gate. He hides his slightly shaking hands in his pockets.

***

Yongguk is busy arranging the kids’ shoes into the locker and collecting fallen hats and jackets from the floor when he hears Mr. Kim’s voice behind him.

“Are you that Bang Yongguk who helped Minjung during the spring trip?”

It’s actually sort of odd they never met before due to that particular accident. When Yongguk thinks back to it now, it doesn’t seem like a big deal, but during that very day he remembers feeling anxious and distressed, in fact partly because he expected to have to sit through an interrogation from Minjung’s parents. That never happened, though, and all he had to face was Mrs. Kim’s radiant smile when she came to pick up Minjung and heard the story from Jieun-nuna. 

“Um, yes. That’s me.”

They’d been on their annual spring excursion at the nearby park to have a small picnic and watch cherry blossoms, when Minjung had suddenly bursted into big, loud tears and screamed that she wanted to go home, right then and there. Even thinking about it feels a little boastful, but she really didn’t calm down until Yongguk had sat with her on the sand under one of the slides, and talked to her for a while. It hadn’t been anything meaningful, mostly topics that Yongguk knew Minjung liked the most. 

Jieun-nuna still keeps saying it’s his voice that makes everybody around him feel safe. Yongguk himself thinks it must have been his inner five year old making Minjung relax or some small familiar thing about him that made Minjung forget about her sudden fears, or maybe all she had needed was just the opportunity to calm down in a safe place with a person she spent a lot of time with. He’d even thought that he might have somehow reminded her of her father. 

Having now met Mr. Kim, Yongguk’s not quite so sure anymore. While they aren’t the polar opposites by any means, he hasn’t really noticed too many similarities, either. 

The guy is wearing his designer suit again and looks every bit like a grown up standing awkwardly in the middle of a children’s playroom. Yongguk supposes he himself fits right in with the colorful walls and cute decorations in his blue college pants with big white stars on them and one of his rainbow colored snapbacks on. Even his winged sneakers match the kids’.

“She talks about you a lot, and I can see why, you’re great with her.”

“Thank you,” Yongguk answers as he gets up from the floor. “She’s an amazing kid.”

Himchan grants him that particular type of smile, the one that changes his face from frowning and cold to the same Yongguk was waiting to see, the one Mr. Kim was wearing when they last met. 

“I had to drop by to give you this.” Mr. Kim holds forward a small lunch box wrapped in a light yellow scarf. “My wife unfortunately forgot when he brought Minjung here this morning.”

“Oh,” Yongguk laughs a little as he accepts the lunch box. “For future references, we always have a little extra with us in case any of the kids doesn’t bring their lunch, so it’s fine to forget every now and then.” His gummy smile seems to be stuck on his face, so he doesn’t bother trying to force it away. “I’m sorry for the trouble. You must be a pretty busy man.”

“I didn’t mind.”

Call it being too stubborn, but Yongguk refuses to lower his gaze, and meets Mr. Kim’s eyes. For a moment they simply look at each other and the bare power behind Mr. Kim’s gaze holds Yongguk still and sends a shiver down his spine. After a moment Mr. Kim’s smile falters. 

“I think I have to go now. I am busy, or at least I’m supposed to be,” Mr. Kim sighs, frowning. He looks steely again, but sort of regretful as well, even if the emotion disappears just as quickly as it appeared. When Mr. Kim’s phone beeps in his pocket, Yongguk can’t see even small traces of the smile under the fierce, alert expression that suddenly takes its place. 

“Right, right. It was good to see you,” Mr. Kim says. He has already lifted his cellphone to his ear before Yongguk can say anything in return.

***

“Yongguk,” Jieun calls his name from the door, softly because it’s nap time and he’s just managed to get all of his kids to calm down. “Yongguk, I just found Minjung’s dress from the closet. The blue one she wore last week, remember?”

Yongguk makes sure everyone in his group is sleeping or at least has their eyes closed so that they won’t get up from the floor and run after Yongguk when he leaves the room. Certain that he can safely get up, Yongguk makes his way to Jieun and closes the door behind him. She’s been out playing with the older kids and still has her sports wear on and hair tied in long, curly pigtails. 

“What dress?” Yongguk asks, but answers his own question almost immediately: “The strawberry dress, right? The one that got dirty.” He scratches the back of his head and blows air out of his lungs. “I forgot to give it to Mrs. Kim when she came to get her the next day and somebody must have just put it in the closet while cleaning.”

Jieun shakes her head a little. “Just remember to return it tomorrow, okay? God, where’s your head at? You’re usually so organized.”

Yongguk shrugs and lifts his glasses, which are actually just plastic frames with no glass in them, to rub his eyes. It’s just a piece of clothing, of course, but the last thing Yongguk wants is for Mr. and Mrs. Kim to think that he somehow ruined the dress and “forgot” to give it back on purpose. Not to mention it’s one of Minjung’s favorites. 

“I think I’m gonna drop it off to their place after my shift,” he says and brushes his chin. The thought of going to Mr. Kim’s house isn’t especially pleasant, but he feels like he has to do it for politeness’ sake. He doesn’t have time to think about his feelings any longer because one his kids lets out a huge shout. 

“Teacher, teacher, where are you? Teacher, there’s a spider on my blanket!”

***

The Kims live on the top floor of a modern, newly built apartment building. Yongguk sees his reflection everywhere on the glass windows and shiny steel surfaces, and feels out of place sharing the elevator with a high end business woman in a sleek pinstripe suit and black patent leather pumps. When the doors slide open, he hurriedly takes off his snapback, grips the plastic bag containing Minjung’s dress a little tighter and starts searching for the right door.

When he finally finds the characters reading _Kim_ , written with both hangul and the Chinese character to fit the fancy mood of the apartment building, and rings the doorbell, it’s Mr. Kim’s face that greets him. Yongguk was half expecting a butler or a housekeeper in a frilly dress, and for a while he simply stares. 

“What is it?” Mr. Kim asks and waves his hand. He’s impatient, Yongguk notes and suddenly he has the weirdest urge to smile. Right afterwards comes a wave of nervousness, which only makes it harder from him to keep a serious expression up. 

“Hello, I’m Bang Yongguk from your daughter’s daycare center. I’m not sure if you remember me, but–”

“Yes, yes, I remember you. Tigger,” Mr. Kim says, a smile forming on his lips, and Yongguk glances down at the tips of his white high tops. The corners of his mouth keep tugging upwards, despite how tense he suddenly feels. He clears his throat a little and tries to act like a professional when Mr. Kim repeats his earlier question. 

“Your daughter’s dress, I forgot to return it to you last week,” Yongguk replies and holds up the plastic bag. He bows, longer than usually. “Here. I’m very sorry.”

Mr. Kim is quiet for a moment and just as Yongguk starts thinking whether he could ask to be dismissed, he opens his mouth. “You should come inside.”

The house is just as grand and luxurious on the inside. Yongguk tries to listen for any kind of sounds as they walk into a spacious living room, but there’s nothing, no noise from a TV or the sound of dishes being washed in the kitchen. Mr. Kim directs him to wait in the hallway and while he is gone, Minjung appears from upstairs. 

“Tigger! Did you come to play with me?” She asks, nearly jumping up and down, and grabs Yongguk’s hand. 

“I’m sorry, Minjung, but that’s not what Yongguk came here for,” Mr. Kim interrupts smoothly as he emerges from the kitchen. “Be a good girl and take your dress to your drawers. Daddy and Tigger need to have a talk.”

She squeezes Yongguk’s hand again, clearly disappointed, but leaves obediently after Yongguk gives her the plastic bag and ensures her they will have plenty of time to play together when Minjung comes to the daycare center again. Mr. Kim’s eyes burn holes in Yongguk’s back the whole time. 

“Would you mind coming to the kitchen?” Mr. Kim asks, and Yongguk is a little embarrassed to admit he gets up from the couch in mere seconds. He follows Mr. Kim and positions himself next to the counter while Mr. Kim carries a bunch of vegetables from the fridge and starts cutting them, quite surprisingly. Yongguk would have bet the keys of his meager apartment on a personal chef. 

“Was there–was there something you wanted to discuss? About Minjung, maybe? Maybe about what happened during the trip?” 

Mr. Kim cuts a carrot in half and the sound of knife hitting the cutting board echoes in the room. Yongguk can see his pale hands tensing, his frowned eyebrows and slightly parted lips. 

“Could you bring me the oil?” Mr. Kim asks and waves the knife towards the general direction of the cupboards. His tone indicates he’s not very used to asking instead of giving orders. 

Yongguk is far too polite to press for a reason for him being inside the house, so he obediently searches for a bottle of olive oil and brings it to Mr. Kim. He sets it down next to the big red bell peppers and suddenly Mr. Kim turns around. They’re facing each other, only a couple of centimeters between them, and Mr. Kim’s black eyes prevent him from moving away. Yongguk notices the soft lines of age on Mr. Kim’s pale skin, the irritated set of his eyebrows that seem to be frowning all the time, the fact that they’re almost exactly the same height. 

He doesn’t want to stop looking, but when Mr. Kim presses, no, crushes their lips together, every muscle in Yongguk’s body short circuits and his eyes fall shut. He has no air in his lungs and he can’t remember how to inhale. 

The kiss is greedy and long, something strange for Yongguk who has only experienced soft, shy lips lathered with lip gloss pressing against his own for the briefest moment. Mr. Kim presses Yongguk against the counter and grasps his wrists, but Yongguk fights back, twists free and lays his hands on Mr. Kim’s waist. He thinks the trembling he feels under the soft fabric of Mr. Kim’s dress shirt isn’t just his imagination. 

Panicking too much to dwell on his perplexing observation, Yongguk battles himself away from Mr. Kim’s mouth, both Mr. Kim and his own body as his opponents. Yongguk rests his whole weight against the counter and lets his head fall back. He tries to breathe as Mr. Kim’s lips find his neck. 

“Mr. Kim–”

“No one will believe you, I can have you fired the second you try to–”

“Mr. Kim, I–”

“No one. Will. Believe you.” Mr. Kim doesn’t lift his face, but stops nibbling the skin of Yongguk’s jaw. His back is hunched and, Yongguk feels soft strands of hair tickling his chin and the back of his neck is starting to hurt form the strain, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the white ceiling. He wants to see Mr. Kim’s eyes again and his lips ache and when he tries to lick them, all he can taste is Mr. Kim’s saliva. 

“What about your wife and–”

“Don’t you think that’s something for me to worry about and not you?” Mr. Kim cuts him off and presses harder against Yongguk’s body. The hard fabric of Yongguk’s jeans scratches against the polyester of Mr. Kim’s dress pants. Yongguk’s hard, so embarrassingly hard inside his boxers, and he wants to agree with Mr. Kim’s words. He does, somewhere in the back of his mind, and it makes him sick. 

When Yongguk’s hands grow lax and nearly fall off from Mr. Kim’s waist, Mr. Kim yanks his face down and grips his chin tightly. They kiss again and it’s so aggressive Yongguk thinks he might be embracing a demon. 

The pads of Yongguk’s fingers climb upwards along Mr. Kim’s back and settle below his shoulder blades, palms shyly feeling his ribs beneath fabric and skin, simply because he cannot give himself the permission to do more. His tongue slides over the sharpness of Mr. Kim’s teeth while they steal away each other’s oxygen, but his trembling hands won’t move from their safe haven. He can’t do more, even thought he aches to move. 

Mr. Kim keeps a steady grip on Yongguk’s chin and uses the other to open the buckle of Yongguk’s jeans. “Open my pants,” he mutters into Yongguk’s mouth and while his touch is soft, fingers carefully fondling Yongguk’s cock through his boxers, the tone of his voice is harsh and breathless. 

As if his earlier inability to move had been nothing but a dream, Yongguk’s hands spring into action nearly of their own accord and the two buttons of Mr. Kim’s slacks open far too easily under his fingers. Impatient, Mr. Kim pushes both his trousers and underwear further down so that Yongguk can take his cock out of his boxers. Yongguk doesn’t dare to look down, but swallows the excess spit in his mouth and breathes in the scent of Mr. Kim’s cologne. 

“Take both of us in your hand,” Mr. Kim says and it’s like Yongguk’s body was waiting for his permission. Their hips press together and his fingers slide over the head Mr. Kim’s cock, his own hooked against his thumb. 

Yongguk feels like a machine that can’t be switched off once it gets started. The feel of already slick skin against his dick makes him gasp for air until Mr. Kim silences him with another kiss. His hand won’t slow down and he feels like he has jumped from simmering arousal to on the verge of an explosion which he desperately needs to reach. 

“Good, so good–” Mr. Kim pants and keeps nibbling Yongguk’s slack lips. He rests his forehead against Yongguk’s, nose against nose, and Yongguk feels his cool fingertips caressing his jaw. His own hand moves fast despite the slight burn, stretched wide to grip them both. 

Mr. Kim holds his face and moans into his mouth as his hips buck. Yongguk presses his free hand against the small of Mr. Kim’s sweaty back and fights off the want to simply let go off himself and work Mr. Kim into completion, just to feel how his body would move against Yongguk’s own and to hear what kinds of sounds he’d make. 

“Mis– Mr. Kim–”

“Himchan,” Mr. Kim groans and all air seems to get caught in Yongguk’s throat. He forces his eyes open and meets Mr. Kim’s hazed gaze, colored from black to the darkest marrow Yongguk has ever seen. Mr. Kim’s fingers dig into the corners of Yongguk’s jaw and he gasps from the sharp sting of pain. They kiss again and Mr. Kim’s name gets trapped inside Yongguk’s mouth. Mr. Kim devours him as if he wanted to make sure those exact syllables would never leave Yongguk’s tongue. 

Yongguk feels Mr. Kim’s hips shuddering against his and he knows the exact moment Mr. Kim comes because his muscles lock and lips fall open against Yongguk’s own. He can’t stop moving his hand, not until he comes too and white flashes behind his eyelids. 

It takes only two deep breaths against Yongguk’s neck before Mr. Kim pushes at his chest and draws away. He returns with multiple sheets of paper towels and hands them to Yongguk before he cleaning himself with moves so brisk they make Yongguk cringe. When Yongguk buckles his belt again, the stickiness is still there, but he doesn’t want to say anything, in fact he’s more than desperate to get out of the whole apartment. 

“No need to have a melt down,” Mr. Kim says as he washes his hands in the sink, not bothering to turn around to face Yongguk. 

“I will just, um, leave now, Mr. Kim,” Yongguk replies, like the coward he is. When Mr. Kim doesn’t answer, or acknowledge him in any other way either, he flees.

***

After the third time Jieun points out something of Minjung’s has been found in one of the closets, Yongguk gives up. It’s her little backpack this time, another one of her dear favorites, and Yongguk knows even without Jieun clearly saying it that returning the bag can’t wait till Monday.

His Friday shift always ends somewhere between noon and two o’clock, but this time he lingers behind cleaning and doing whatever meaningless little tasks he can. When he’s arranged the books in alphabetical order and washed every existing dish in the building twice, he has no choice but to head over to the Kims. 

Yongguk spends ten minutes inside the unmoving elevator, gripping Minjun’s backpack that’s filled with all her other forgotten things and wondering how he should introduce himself at the door. His sentimental side is certain Mr. Kim remembers his name, but the little realist inside his head reminds him that Mr. Kim could have five flings such as theirs per day and a full dozen during weekends. In the end he doesn’t need to say anything. 

“Tigger,” Mr. Kim smiles when he opens the door, and Yongguk nearly chokes on his hastily practiced words. 

“I’m very sorry to bother you again, Mr. Kim, but Minjung’s backpack–”

“You should come inside.”

Yongguk swallows and meets Mr. Kim’s eyes. The grin has disappeared and his eyebrows are once again furrowed, but there’s hidden heat behind the blackness of his irises and it scorches Yongguk’s insides. He should hand the bag over and turn his back to the suggestion, but he _can’t_. 

It’s the last thing Yongguk should do, but facing the fantasy that has tormented him for the past week turns off the last of his sanity. He steps over the threshold, nearly out of breath with anticipation.

***

Mr. Kim doesn’t visit their daycare center for a week after that and Yongguk thinks it could be over between them. Whatever it is, he doesn’t even want to start defining that.

He can’t avoid Mrs. Kim, though, but is forced to chat with her almost every morning and afternoon when she drops Minjung off and then picks her up. Yongguk has never been a good liar and their dialogue is always rather one sided, but even if he doesn’t say much, Mrs. Kim seems more than happy to carry on their awkward conversations on her own. In a twisted way, Yongguk starts to anticipate seeing her, because it’s the only way he hears anything about Mr. Kim. Even if it’s just brief and vague words about his morning coffee or tight work schedule, Yongguk drinks in every detail almost without noticing it himself. 

On the next Wednesday, almost two weeks since they last met, Mr. Kim makes his comeback. Yongguk is cooking rice in the small kitchen of the daycare center when the man suddenly appears into the doorway. He hears his name, but doesn’t turn around, too immersed in measuring the right amount of water into the cooker. 

“The kids are outside, we’re having a sports day. There are teachers there if you–”

“I wouldn’t dare to bother Minjung-ah during the competition, since she’s been practicing so hard and already planned what she’s going to do with that first price. It’s chocolate, right?”

Yongguk’s finger freezes on the turn on button. It takes a Herculean effort to push it down. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kim, was there something you needed to talk about?” 

Mr. Kim brushes the front of his suit jacket and his lips quirk. Yongguk is too much a realist to imagine he knows anything about Mr. Kim, but he has learned to associate those actions with Mr. Kim’s ever present impatience, but it’s not like Yongguk could just fall onto his knees and let his mouth hang open. 

“Will the kids be busy for at least an hour?” Mr. Kim asks. The way he starts to unbutton the jacket of his dark blue suit has Yongguk’s breathing growing shallower and shame wells in his stomach. 

“Yeah, probably at least one and a half, but it’s not like we can do it here!” He says in a low voice, already fearing his good luck is running out and somebody walks in on them. “Mr. Kim, I’m serious–”

“So am I, Yongguk.” Mr. Kim walks closer, until there’s about half a meter between them. His eyes are blazing and his mouth is pursed, both clear sighs of the man being on his way to losing is temper. “You want it, I want it, now where’s the nearest room with a lock on the door?”

Yongguk should defy the man. Mr. Kim might have years, money and power over him, everything that matters, but Yongguk knows he’s right. He’s always been the person who does the right thing, the one who strives to be a good human, and this whole debate should be easy for him to win. Somehow the correct answer gets stuck into Yongguk’s throat and when he shallows thickly, it becomes ashes in the low, dark burn somewhere in his abdomen. 

“There,” he says eventually, pointing at the light blue door behind Mr. Kim’s back. It leads to the linen closet and there’s no extra soundproofing or anything else that makes the room any more fitting than the kitchen they’re standing in, but it’s the closest separate space, closest hideaway for what they’re going to do. Mr. Kim smiles, smirks in the devilish way he always does, and when he turns around and goes to the closet he doesn’t pull Yongguk along with him or glance over his shoulder. 

He expects Yongguk to follow, and Yongguk does. 

It’s thanks to both the pent up desire from the past weeks as well as frustration with his own inability to say no to the infuriating man that have Yongguk acting rougher than usually. Before, he’s had to gather courage to do nearly anything without initiation, but right now he lets his hands wander where ever they want, even grip Mr. Kim’s body tightly if they so desire. 

Mr. Kim seems surprised at first, even cocks an eyebrow at him after a particularly harsh kiss leaves them both panting for air, but simply hums in agreement and allows him to continue. The only thing he doesn’t allow Yongguk to do is leave visible marks.

***

After that the longest time Yongguk spends without seeing, or fucking, Mr. Kim at least once is barely three days. His fear of getting caught grows every time they meet, but so does his hunger for more. He feels so wicked when he goes to meet Mr. Kim or finds himself pressed against the bathroom wall in one of the washrooms of the daycare center, but at the same time even 72 hours is too long.

Mr. Kim adds his number to Yongguk’s crappy cellphone after a blowjob in the hall of Mr. Kim’s house. He’s still on his knees when he steals the phone from the pocket of Yongguk’s baggy jeans, and while Yongguk wipes sweat from his brow and zips up, Mr. Kim calmly fiddles with the phone, his own pants still open and thighs stained with semen.

“Don’t call between 9 a.m and 6 p.m,” he simply orders when he hands the phone back and gets up from the floor. There’s a smear on the screen from his fingers. 

“I’m not planning to call at all,” Yongguk replies and hides the phone in the back pocket of his jeans. “Mr. Kim, this really can’t go on.”

“You say that every time,” Mr. Kim points out and pushes his sweaty hair back. When Yongguk makes a move to gather his denim coat from the floor where Mr. Kim threw it about half an hour ago, he’s interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. 

“You should stay. There’s leftover chicken.”

Yongguk almost starts laughing before he realizes Mr. Kim is very serious with his suggestion. There’s even a challenging smile on his lips, as if he knows Yongguk will say no and dares him not to. He does say no, of course, and shakes his head rapidly as he picks up his coat and puts it on with harsh movements that leave, hopefully, no room for argument. 

“This was the last time, okay?” Yongguk repeats his usual goodbye, but doesn’t make it out of the apartment without Mr. Kim kissing him once more, stealing back every piece of courage Yongguk has managed to gather after the blowjob. Yongguk is almost too tempted to grab the man’s shoulders and lead them both back inside, this time all the way to the bedroom where he would press Mr. Kim against the mattress and then fight for dominance with teeth, hands and tongue. 

He flees before he can finish the thought and, once safely inside the elevator, presses his forehead against the cool wall. It doesn’t help his racing heartbeat, which gets only faster after skipping a beat when his phone beeps. 

_You forgot your cap. Come get it tomorrow at 12.30._

***

There’s a sharp noise marking yet another Line message, and Yongguk almost dives under the table when Jieun gives him a pointed look and rolls her eyes. Luckily he’s with the younger kids today, because otherwise he’d be stuck showcasing all the photos and text messages on his phone and taking selcas with every single kid. Right now the group he’s reading to simply stares at him with wide eyes and the beep is already forgotten when Yongguk turns to the next page.

Jieun assigns him with the cleaning of the common room and Yongguk knows he deserves it, but he can’t help feeling irritated. There’s no way he can make it in the 40 minutes he has until he’s scheduled to be behind Mr. Kim’s door. 

_Can’t make it._ That’s what he types hastily on his phone after checking that there’s no one close by. 

_You should drop that polite tone already ㅋㅋ_

Yongguk snorts and answers _Mr. Kim, we’re not that intimate._ He leans against the wall, the vacuum cleaner he should be using hanging from his other hand, and stares at the phone until the screen blinks again. 

_At least stop calling me that. Try Himchan-hyung._

Against all odds and every rational thought, he catches himself smiling before huffing again. The man has some nerve, but Yongguk won’t give in on this. Even if he knows it’s silly that Yongguk won’t call Mr. Kim anything but Mr. Kim, outside of the bed of course and even then it’s doesn’t come easily, when he’s already familiarized himself with every part of Mr. Kim’s body, inside and out. 

“Himchan-hyung,” Yongguk mutters to himself and immediately shakes his head. He doesn’t reply to the message but starts cleaning with renewed vigor and his cheeks are red and hot. He can’t think about anything else than panting out the word _hyung_ as he spreads Mr. Kim’s legs.

***

Yongguk doesn’t plan say it out loud again, except for the times he jerks off alone in the shower, whole body strung up tight against the dirty white tiles of his bathroom as he thinks about Mr. Kim and fists his cock so hard it almost hurts. There are quite many opportunities, and not all of them involve sex; some times he simply sits on the sofa in Mr. Kim’s living room, pretending to watch a movie when all he can think about is moving closer to Mr. Kim who’s perched on the other end of the couch.

After the fifth something that might even be called a date, even though they always either start with or end up having sex, Yongguk doesn’t even oppose the idea of forming the words _Himchan-hyung_ and it rolls from his tongue easily enough. Then again, sticking to Mr. Kim is a much safer option considering how much time Yongguk spends with both Minjung and Mrs. Kim. 

“You’re so great with her,” Mrs. Kim says as she hugs droopy eyed and yawning Minjung closer to her chest. She looks dangerously close to stumbling, standing there on the gravel with her sky high heels and tight skirt, but her smile is impossibly wide just like always. 

“Thank you. She’s an–she’s an amazing kid.” Yongguk swallows and tries to feel bad for how easy it is to return that smile. Mrs. Kim seems like the perfect mother, the perfect wife, and Yongguk can’t believe what he’s doing, undermining the very foundation of the woman’s life. 

“Tigger, when can you come to my house to play with me again?” Minjung asks and Mrs. Kim laughs wholeheartedly. 

“Darling, I think Tigger here is quite busy, isn’t he? So much bouncing to do, every day,” Mrs. Kim says and pets Minjung’s pitch black hair. The color is so similar to Mr. Kim’s that Yongguk almost takes a step back, because all he can think about is Mrs. Kim’s small, white hand sliding through the strands of Mr. Kim’s hair. 

“We can play here every day, can’t we, Minjung-ah?” Yongguk says and smiles, but Minjung is still pouting and starts pulling at her mother’s hair. 

“But not on Saturday and Sunday,” she complains, and both Yongguk and Mrs. Kim can easily recognize the first signs of a tantrum. 

Mrs. Kim gives Yongguk a meaningful look and nods her head towards the gates. For a moment Yongguk looks back, puzzled, but when Mrs. Kim starts walking towards the exit, he understands to follow her. Minjung lays his chin against her mother’s shoulder and stares at Yongguk, who opens his mouth as wide as he can and shows his teeth, roaring soundlessly. It earns him a small giggle. 

Mrs. Kim’s plan is to have Yongguk say a very thorough goodbye to Minjung as her mother sits her down on the safety seat in the backseat of the car. Leaning inside, Yongguk pulls his glasses off from Minjung’s little nose, and at the very same moment Mr. Kim turns around on the drivers seat and flashes him a cool, collected smile. 

Yongguk hits the back of his head on the roof of the car. 

“So, can you come?” He asks and turns to face the steering wheel again, but Yongguk still meets his eyes in the rearview mirror. Once safely out of the car, Yongguk straightens his back and glances at Mrs. Kim, who knocks the passenger side window with her fingers.

“I didn’t have the time to ask him yet, darling.”

Yongguk watches from the sidelines as Mr. Kim rolls down the window and his wife bends over to talk to him. The bright smile on her face doesn’t falter for a second, and even though Yongguk can’t see Mr. Kim’s face, it’s the easiest thing in the world to imagine that real smile, the one he has witnessed a handful of times, making Mr. Kim’s eyes squint and his lips stretch, baring teeth, and drawing soft lines on his face. 

Mrs. Kim pulls back and flips her perfectly shiny and smooth, light brown hair over her shoulder. “What my impatient husband means is, would you be available to come babysit Minjung this Saturday? We were invited to a small party, very last note, and nobody else is available.” Mrs. Kim closes the back door and smiles at Minjung, already asleep, through the tinted windows. 

“We’d pay you, of course. It’s only for a couple of hours.”

Yongguk knows instantly he has to shake his head and, even though a little sluggishly, his body follows the order. Mrs. Kim’s face falls and she lets out a small sigh. While it’s all very polite and proper and they both keep bowing and hiding their faces as Yongguk mutters small apologies, it still makes Yongguk’s insides twist into knots. 

“I’m very sorry, but–”

“That’s such a shame,” Mrs. Kim says. She has the same habit of interfering as her husband. “I’ve asked everybody, even my mother, she lives in Incheon. Then my husband suggested you, since Minjung loves you so much and you’re obviously very talented at your job, but of course we can’t expect you to be available on your free time,” Mrs. Kim says, and even though she’s still smiling, the difference between the bright expression and this one is so stark it almost makes Yongguk want to hug her. 

He scratches the back of his neck and doesn’t want to give in, knows he should stay as far as he can from anywhere Mr. Kim calls his territory, but the burning guilt is so intense it nearly keeps him from fully straightening his spine. The fire is everywhere under his skin, making him unable to stay still as well as unable to look Mrs. Kim straight in the eyes. 

“No, I, I think I could come, after all. Saturday, right? I think I could. You really should be able to go to that party,” Yongguk finally forces out. Mrs. Kim’s whole face lights up and Yongguk feels like kneeling down and begging for forgiveness. He has to give her this, for everything he’s done behind her back. 

“You could? Thank you so much, Yongguk, that’s so sweet of you. Please come by around four, is that okay? Do you know the address?” Mrs. Kim sounds so pleased, like somebody who’s used to getting what they want. It’s painfully similar to the tone of voice Mr. Kim uses every time Yongguk takes off his shorts or sucks his cock or holds back his orgasm when told so, no questions asked. 

Yongguk nods and forces a smile as normal as possible on his lips. He doesn’t know how to react when Mr. Kim shouts a casual thanks as Mrs. Kim gets into the car.

***

Yongguk checks for the fourth time, but Minjung is still soundly asleep and clutching her favorite plushie, a big Hello Kitty wearing the same kind of light blue summer dress as Minjung had the day Yongguk first met Mr. Kim.

He returns downstairs to the big living room where he’s been watching TV for the last hour and a half. It’s about ten o’clock, and he’s not expecting the Kims to return until a couple of hours later. Still, Yongguk can’t help hoping they’d already come back. Until Minjung’s bedtime everything had been easy, he’d been busy playing and cooking and entertaining her, but right now, in the absolute silence of the massive apartment, everything he can think about is how many times he and Mr. Kim have kissed on that very same couch.

About half an hour later, there’s a sharp slam coming from the hallway, and Yongguk must have fallen asleep because it startles him awake and he nearly falls from the sofa. He gets up somewhat groggily and hurries to turn off the TV, only to see Mr. Kim carrying nearly unconscious Mrs. Kim into the living room. 

“Help me get her into bed,” he says and Yongguk hesitates only for a second before tentatively wrapping Mrs. Kim’s other arm around his shoulders and taking some of her weight. They hobble into the bedroom upstairs, careful not to wake up Minjung, and Yongguk exists the room immediately after it looks like Mr. Kim can handle his wife on his own. After Mr. Kim has put her under the covers, he follows Yongguk out, but instead of explaining or saying anything, he attacks Yongguk’s mouth like a hungry animal. 

It’s an instinct to back off, but after three or four steps Yongguk feels the wall against his back and has to stop. 

“No, Mr. Kim, we cannot––we cannot do this,” Yongguk whispers, eyes pressed shut and lips and tongue feeling as if frozen.

“C’mon.” Mr. Kim doesn’t even seem to hear him as he drags Yongguk into the guest room right next to the master bedroom. Yongguk doesn’t want to admit it, but his legs aren’t putting up much of a fight. 

“She’s, your wife is, right there, she could–”

“She’s fucking passed out, okay? Relax,” Mr. Kim mutters against his neck. He doesn’t even bother to shut the door before guiding Yongguk to the bed, flawlessly made with a beautiful flowery cover and plush pillows. It looks like plastic. 

“This is the last time,” Yongguk breathes, even as his treacherous body responds to Mr. Kim’s fingers pushing his hoodie over his head, burning fingertips dragging invisible traces over his skin. “I can’t do this to them anymore.”

Mr. Kim snorts softly as he straddles Yongguk’s hips. His eyes are feverish black and wild in the dark room, and Yongguk can’t control the anticipation running through his every vein like an electric current. But even so, he believes his own words, and that’s what gives him the permission to touch and feel and take what he can, for the final time. 

Yongguk pushes himself into a sitting position and kisses Mr. Kim’s lips. He laps up the intense taste of expensive wine and whiskey and pulls off Mr. Kim’s silk tie while Mr. Kim stretches Yongguk’s wife beater out of shape with his frantic hands and rips open the zipper of his jeans. 

Their teeth clash and Mr. Kim growls when Yongguk tries to pull his dress shirt off from his shoulders, having fought with the millions of tiny, slippery buttons keeping Mr. Kim’s chest and stomach hidden behind the nearly transparent fabric and finally won. Yongguk gives up and opts for nibbling Mr. Kim neck and jawline with his teeth and battling the urge to suck countless red marks into his skin. The touch of Mr. Kim’s bare thighs burns Yongguk’s legs even through his jeans. He doesn’t understand how the black dress pants disappeared so quickly, or how Mr. Kim manages to lose his Armani boxers with so little effort when he’s clearly drunk. 

“If this is the last time you’ll ever fuck me, you better do well,” Mr. Kim says in a low voice, and Yongguk wants to throw him off the bed and push him against the floor, take him there against the harsh carpet and cold floor. Instead, he accepts the offered tube of lube and coats his fingers with it. 

Mr. Kim’s thighs tense on the bed as he lifts himself up a little bit, just so that Yongguk has all the space he needs to slick him up inside. Working his fingers deeper, Yongguk presses his lips against Mr. Kim’s pulse point even though he feels like he should be watching the man’s face and branding all his features in his mind. He figures he’ll do that later and concentrates on the sounds first, because the way Mr. Kim’s breath catches and becomes low and growly in his throat when Yongguk’s fingers move just right is almost as good. 

“Get on with the damn program,” Mr. Kim snarls, but he’s panting and his hair is wild and cheeks painted with red, and Yongguk cannot really see him as the powerful, rich businessman he usually is, but as somebody who’s just a human like he is. 

“Yeah,” he whispers against Mr. Kim’s slightly shaking lips. His hands are trembling, but when Yongguk finally pushes inside Mr. Kim’s body, it’s so easy to forget that Yongguk’s not supposed to leave marks on Mr. Kim’s skin and that Mrs. Kim is sleeping in the room next to theirs. 

He’s painfully aware of how tightly, almost protectively he grips Mr. Kim, of the loving affection seeping into their kisses.

***

It’s so early that there aren’t any kids at the daycare center yet. Yongguk walks through the empty, eerily quiet yard and yawns. He’s usually the type to like Mondays, as unnatural as it sounds, but this week he would rather have stayed in bed.

Mr. Kim hasn’t sent him any text messages, a huge change from the way his phone used to beep almost every hour just last week. It seems that Mr. Kim finally believed what Yongguk had kept repeating; that Saturday had been final. Yongguk refuses to identify the empty feeling inside him as anything and especially not as regret or longing. 

“Yongguk-ah, Mrs. Park wants to see you in her office,” Jieun says as she notices him taking off his shoes. She opens her mouth to say more and gives him a look that should mean something to Yongguk, but disappears into the kitchen after the silence between them has reached uncomfortable levels. 

He has been in the small room at the back of the building only a couple of times, first when he started working and again about two months ago when he got a raise. This is the first time, however, when his boss doesn’t smile, in fact her expression only drops when Yongguk opens his mouth to say hello. 

“I got a phone call yesterday, saying, well, hmm,” she begins after Yongguk sits down, but she doesn’t really meet his eyes. “It’s a very serious claim. To be quite honest with you, I could hardly believe it, I mean, you’re one of our best workers–”

“Excuse me, but what phone call?”

“Are you having a sexual relationship with a man? With a parent?”

There’s a storm, a huge thunderstorm inside Yongguk’s mind. Massive waves crash against any rational thoughts and bury them under tons of cold water, and Yongguk can’t hear what the woman in front of him is saying. “What?”

“It’s so unbelievable but she made it sound like she was absolutely sure, but I just couldn’t believe her. I mean, you, Yongguk, that’s just absurd, isn’t it? You’re––You’re one of our best––You and Jieun–” She seems instantly relieved, as if Yongguk had already loudly protested against the accusations and somehow proved them false. Like he should have.

The stormy waves, or maybe it’s just his own blood, make Yongguk deaf, but when he opens his mouth to speak, everything snaps back to normal and he hears his own words crystal clear: “It’s true.”

“What’s true? What do you mean it’s true? You’re not saying that–”

“That it’s true. It’s true,” Yongguk repeats. 

Her face falls and she sighs heavily, covering her eyes with her shaking hands. Yongguk stares at the surface of the wooden table between them and waits for what feels like a million or more heartbeats before she speaks again. 

“I have no other choice, Yongguk. She demanded I do something and even if it wasn’t for that––I have no choice. You do understand that, don’t you? Something like this, it’s just…wrong.”

“I understand. I’m very sorry,” Yongguk answers and gets up from the chair. 

“It’s better for the kids if you just, hmm, there would be just so many questions. They wouldn’t understand. I’ll have Jieun bring you any forgotten belongings and–”

“Thank you. I apologize for all the harm I have caused for you,” Yongguk answers. He bows deeply and won’t let his face crumble until he’s outside, standing on the other side of the road, his back turned firmly towards the yellow gates of the daycare center. 

The screen of his phone reads 9:12 when Yongguk flips it open and starts pressing the buttons. He goes through all of his contacts at least twice and searches for Kim Himchan before finally finding the the right name and wraps an arm around himself as he waits for him to pick up. He has to call again, four times in total, before Mr. Kim’s voice finally echoes through the speakers. 

“I fucking told you not to call me between–”

“She knows. How does she know?” Yongguk says. He doesn’t really notice he’s shouting and gripping his phone with both hands, but the streets are empty and quiet. If it wasn’t for Mr. Kim’s breathing coming through the phone, Yongguk would have thought time was frozen. 

“Did you tell her?” Yongguk yells and presses his eyes shut. Air feels thick and every breath only blocks his throat more, making his head spin, and connecting words into sentences becomes harder and harder. 

“She asked, so I–”

“Why, why would you––She–” Yongguk has stop to take a deep breath, he feels as if his lungs won’t accept a single molecule of oxygen. 

“Has she called you or something? That stupid woman–”

“How did she know?”

“Why the hell do you expect me to know the answer to that? Maybe she was awake, maybe she asked a fucking fortune teller, I don’t know, and frankly it’s no big deal–”

Yongguk ends the call, and Mr. Kim doesn’t call back. As Yongguk walks home, Jieun sends him a message _I can come around, you shouldn’t be alone, I’m so sorry Yongguk, is it true?_ but all he can manage with his trembling fingers is a short answer.

_sorry i can’t_

He’s there half past ten and starts packing about an hour later.


End file.
